


It Was All Just A Lie

by AgentCatt



Series: Locington One Shot Stuff [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knifeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Nightmares, Post Season 13, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCatt/pseuds/AgentCatt
Summary: Locus is with the Reds and Blues. He has a nightmare. This one particularly got to him. If only he could shake Felix from his head.





	It Was All Just A Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [immortalbears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalbears/gifts).



Locus wakes up in a cold sweat. He lies there, trying to steady his breathing before sitting up. He looks over to Donut to make sure he didn’t wake him. He’s thankful he didn’t. Donut likes to ask about his nightmares. He couldn’t share this one if he wanted to.

When he gathers the strength, he gets out of bed and heads to the showers. Cold water should help. Especially with… Ignore it and it’ll go away. Ignore the thought of Felix’s lips around him. The thought of Felix on top of him, riding him, telling him he’s a good little soldier.

Locus tries to shake the thoughts as he strips out of his clothes. Folding them neatly. Setting them on the bench. He heads to the stall farthest from the entrance. 

He turns on the cold water and steps in. He feels numb. The cold doesn’t bother him like he thought it would. It feels different than the warmth. Almost like the cold of a blade against his skin. He closes his eyes and feels the scars he knows Felix made. When he wouldn’t listen. When he tried to fight back. 

_ “Don’t you want to be the perfect soldier? Soldiers don’t fight back when they’re given a command. They follow it. Do me a favor and be a good little soldier.” Felix always came prepared with everything he needed.  _

Locus leans against the wall with his left hand. He takes his hard cock in his right. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing. He’s lost in thought. Lost in memory.

_ “Be that perfect soldier and don’t move or I’ll knick something important.”  _

He closes his eyes. He can feel the blade dig into his skin as if it’s happening. The feel of blood falling down his skin. The look in Felix’s eyes. He was very skilled with knives and Locus was his drawing board.

Felix always slowed down to an agonizing pace when he decided to draw on Locus. So much Locus weighs the cons of bucking up as hard as possible. Risk the blade going into his side deeper than it already was.

_ “Red is such a beautiful color on you. You should wear it more.”  _

When Felix gets bored, he sets the knife aside and admires the cuts he’s made. How much they bleed. Then he picks up the pace. Only enough for him to get off quickly. His cum mixing with the blood on Locus.

The only thing Locus has to get off is Felix’s hand. He never gives him more when it comes to him getting off. It’s always about Felix and how he can do as he pleases. Knowing the drill, Locus bucks up into the hand until he cums and Felix helps coax everything out of him.

Locus opens his eyes, looking down. He realizes what he’s just done. He… No, he couldn’t have. But he did. He just got off to a memory of Felix. It wasn’t even the worst memory he had. It’s the one he thought of first. Panic starts to fill his mind. He’s damaged. He’s broken. He’s unclean. 

He turns off the cold water and turns on the hot. He lets it heat up before stepping in. He uses his nails to scrape every inch of his skin. He’s dirty, unclean. He doesn’t even feel it when he creates open wounds. Doesn’t even notice the sting of the hot water. Frantictly trying to get the feel off of him.

The first “stop” goes unnoticed. The second sounds muffled. The third is heard loud and clear because his hands are held away from his body. Locus looks to see who it is. He looks away from Agent Washington. Of course it’s him.

Wash turns the water off. He slowly leads Locus out to the bench. Locus takes a towel and wraps it around his waist before sitting. He refuses to say anything. It’s like he doesn’t have to. Wash doesn’t ask him anything. Doesn’t say anything to him. He just goes to get a washcloth and starts cleaning the new wounds.

He gets the memory of Felix always cleaning him up after. Always saying he’s proud of his soldier. Don’t want to get any of these infected. Don’t want to resist the touch. 

“Don’t,” Locus doesn’t have the energy to push Wash away, but Wash listens to him and stops. That’s odd. No one has ever listened to his words to stop before.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Wash sits next to him. “I just want to clean the wounds then get you back to bed.” 

There has to be something he’s not telling him. There has to be an underlying motive. There always is. But what is it exactly?

“Can I finish cleaning the wounds?” Wash asks ever so kindly. Locus isn’t sure he’s ever heard someone speak like this. It has to be trickery. There’s no way. He nods. Wash starts to clean the remaining wounds.

“I-” Locus starts. He tries to gather his thoughts on what he wants to say. “I can still feel his touch. I can hear his voice as if it’s more than just a memory.” 

“It’s okay. None of that is real and we’ll all be here to remind you of that. I promise. You’re safe here.”

Locus wants to believe those words. Believe it’s the truth. But what is the truth? Has he ever been told the truth or has it all been lies? 

Wash hugs him. “Let me keep you grounded in the darkest of times.”


End file.
